


auspices

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Guilt, Introspection, POV Lando Calrissian, POV Second Person, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7179197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lando’s life in ten drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	auspices

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Grand Bespin Bash!!!](http://starwarsfruitbowl.dreamwidth.org/27153.html) going on over at the [Star Wars Fruit Bowl comm](http://starwarsfruitbowl.dreamwidth.org/). Check it out if you’re a fan of Lando and Lando-centric fan creations.

You leave the _Falcon_ , the transfer of ownership a fresh weight in the back of your mind. She might’ve been the five-winged _fleth_ around your neck for so long, you feel listless standing on the hard, solid ground of the spaceport, rid of her finally. Your buddy, your old pal, Han Solo, shuffles his feet, aw shucks his way through his farewell, Chewbacca silent at his side. You don’t know it yet, but tonight, you’ll miss her, that ship of yours. That unlucky hunk of junk. She’d belonged to you. And, in some small way, you’d belonged to her, too.

-

Without her, you float from port to port, wrangling hustles like you were born to it. You weren’t, but you might as well have been for how easily you’ve always taken to them. At first the jobs are high risk, high reward. Card skimming against gangsters. Card skimming _for_ gangsters. A man hiding behind a voice-altering device and a fake holo image asks you to run blasters once. You’ve grown confident enough to say no, earned the credits and cachet to turn down the jobs that don’t appeal. “Blasters are for the uncreative,” you say.

You have never been uncreative.

-

You don’t wonder what Han’s done to your ship. You’d never even liked the ship that much. Only patched her up as much as she needed to be, fueled her only when you had to. Tried to win better ships in sabacc tournaments. You’d never have lost her purposefully, but you get to wondering if there’s something in the universe that heard you’d wanted it gone and decided to liberate you of the burden anyway. You’ve done that a time or two yourself. See a guy who doesn’t treat his property well? You take it from him. Only seems fair.

-

Bespin is only supposed to be a stopover on the way to someplace else, but you get to licking your wounds, Lobot tagging along, nothing like the man he used to be. And you start thinking. Cloud City is just about the most beautiful place in the Outer Rim. Majestic. Profitable—or trying to be. In need of management You ask him what he thinks about it, hoping he’ll answer the way he would have before. “It’s a bad idea, Lando,” he’d have said. “You’re not a businessman.” Instead, he quotes statistics at you. Like it’s the numbers that matter.

-

It’s your fault, what happened to Lobot. You want to make good, make right. _Do_ something that doesn’t put him or you or anyone else in danger. Working honestly—working as honestly as you can with the Empire sniffing around, taxing and taking and annexing every useful sector, planet, city in the galaxy. You want, for once, to protect something. And, for once, maybe you can. The Baron Administrator takes a shine to you (most people do) and she shows you the managerial ropes.

It’s not so different from playing a hand of cards with a bunch of no-good, know-it-alls.

-

Bespin is a stopover on the way to someplace else right up until the moment you learn your general manager’s birthday, her wife, her kids’, her _dogs’_ birthdays. It is a stopover until your economic advisor crunches the numbers and tells you unemployment is down. You don’t hear that. Instead, you hear about all the families that will be fed and clothed and housed by the credits they’ve generated. Their taxes fill the city’s coffers. Lobot could apportion out the surplus, but you prefer completing the task yourself, spend your evenings ensuring everyone shares in the bounty. It feels good.

-

Prosperity suits you, but it doesn’t stay with you. Out here on the Outer Rim, you’d be forgiven for believing yourself above, or below, the Empire’s notice. Most people around these parts do. And nine times out of ten, they’re justified in that… hubris. You’re not most people though and you’re only as lucky as the next big hit you take. You might not think it starts with the Empire. A malfunction in the core refinery, minor, if annoying, isn’t their style. But it is a sign of things to come and you, for once, fail to heed the warning.

-

You hadn’t thought you’d ever meet Lord Vader in person. You hadn’t thought you’d see the _Falcon_ or Han or Chewie again. You never believed you’d meet a princess of a planet that no longer exists and you sure as shit never imagined you’d meet yourself a Jedi. You hadn’t known you’d leave Bespin in flames, metaphorically speaking, and you realized too late you’d always regret having done so once you have. You’re gifted with a general’s pin for your trouble, but you’re not sure how much that’s worth to you. They did give one to Han, too, after all.

-

The general’s pin buys retribution and freedom and a moment’s respite from your guilt. It buys you accolades you probably don’t deserve and the attention of people who might’ve called you a scoundrel and not meant it as a compliment. It won’t be worth much once clean-up operations begin, but it gets you into the biggest party the galaxy has ever known with friends you genuinely like rather than friends of convenience or necessity. You share drinks with the Skywalker kid and join his rather exclusive club. There aren’t many people can claim to have blown up a Death Star.

-

Your charm and enough conversation to get by, that’s the only explanation you’ve got for why Luke hangs around after everyone else has gone to bed, his compact frame stretched across the mossy forest floor by your feet. “Having a good time down there?” you ask, fingers gripped tight around your wooden tumbler. With only starlight to see by, it’s hard to make out, but you think he squints at you, his reply thoughtful. “Best time I’ve had in years.”

“Yeah,” you tell him, settling on the cool, regrettably damp, ground next to him. “Yeah, I can drink to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [spookykingdomstarlight.tumblr.com](http://spookykingdomstarlight.tumblr.com/). Come say hi if you'd like!


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